Chapter 28 - Apostle Beris (2)

Inside a tent meant for four or five people, several female believers were laying out sleeping bags for the night.

Shaperia finished settling in first and opened her scriptures. Ending the day with scriptural study to cleanse body and mind was a long-standing custom of the Church of the Great Saint.

She read chapter eight, verse seven of the Book of Piroimel.

— Saint Marziel said, the strength to uphold justice comes from unwavering conviction.

Shaperia closed her eyes and reaffirmed her convictions. Protect the weak and destroy evil.

As a street urchin, she had once been kidnapped by a wicked mage and nearly sacrificed in some ritual. Death had come within a hair's breadth, but she had survived thanks to the sacrifice of a holy knight whose name she never learned.

He had appeared without warning, interrupted the profane ritual, and fought the mage. After a fierce battle, the holy knight had finally prevailed, but he too had suffered a mortal wound.

Shaperia had asked the dying knight why he had risked his life to fight. He could have survived if he had fled, so why had he kept swinging his sword to the end?

Even as he coughed up blood, the holy knight had smiled and answered.

["We do not turn away from malice. No matter how great the evil before us, a holy knight cannot turn his back."]

Even in death, he had shone. His noble conviction had lit a fire in Shaperia's heart.

She had stayed until his body grew cold. The other kidnapped children had long since fled, but she alone had remained. It was her way of honoring the man who had given a street urchin living hand to mouth her first glimpse of a higher purpose in life.

That day, Shaperia had made a vow.

'I'll live as he did.'

By helping the weak and fighting evil.

At that very moment, a pentagram-shaped holy mark had appeared on the back of her hand. The Great Saint Marziel had answered. From then on, she had been able to wield the Eye of Scrutiny and holy power.

Shaperia opened her eyes, leaving the memory behind, and read chapter eight, verse seven again.

— Saint Marziel said, the strength to uphold justice comes from unwavering conviction.

What if she had persisted in condemning the defenseless Ilea as an apostate back at the lord's castle to conceal her own mistake? Her convictions would have been compromised, and the Great Saint would have stripped her of her power and holy power.

Correcting her mistake had earned her the archbishop's reprimand, but ultimately, she had preserved her convictions. They said remaining true to one's convictions sometimes brought great trials. This had been one of them.

Shaperia sighed in relief. She seemed to have weathered her first trial well.

Just as she was about to make the holy sign, a question occurred to her.

'What conviction drives the archbishop to protect the Church's honor even at the cost of condemning the innocent?'

The answer was simple. It was already in the question.

'The Church's honor.'

The archbishop would do anything for the Church's honor. That was his conviction, and a believer's strength grew by remaining true to their convictions.

'We're going to clash a lot.'

Just as bitterness crossed her face, one of the women began complaining of pain.

"I-I can't breathe."

She pounded her chest as though suffering from indigestion. The other believers in the tent showed similar symptoms. A strange pressure was crushing the space around them.

Despite the suddenness of it all, Shaperia kept her composure. As the manual had taught her, she released her holy power. Pure white light spread out from her in every direction.

Those touched by the holy power regained at least a little calm.

"W-what was that just now?"

"I don't know. I still can't stop shaking."

They all shuddered at a sensation unlike anything they had ever felt.

"Some sort of sorcery or magic... Are we under attack?"

Heretics might have launched a surprise attack to seize the fragment of the Great Saint's corpse. Shaperia shouted.

"Let's get outside first!"

They needed to assess the situation before anything else. She lifted the tent flap.

Believers were rushing out of the other tents as well. Every eye was fixed on the opposite mountain peak, where demonic energy surged beneath the moonlight.

Its source kept making its presence known, seemingly with no intention of concealing its identity.

A holy knight shouted.

"Everyone, consecrate your arms with holy power!"

As he unleashed his holy power, the sacred soldiers imbued their weapons with pure white light. This was what was known as consecration. Unable to emit holy power themselves, sacred soldiers fought by borrowing the strength of holy knights or priests in this way.

Pure white radiance swept over the ridge. A force numbering a hundred in all formed ranks, cloaked in holy power. Their preparations for battle were complete in an instant.

One of the holy knights approached the archbishop.

"Your Grace, do you know what that is?"

Standing at the front, Archbishop Hilles shook his head.

"I have never seen such malice in my life. A monster that should not exist in the south—no, anywhere in this world!"

A being that left even an archbishop of such lofty attainment aghast. It might be a horned spirit with several horns.

The holy knight swallowed hard.

"... Can our present force stand against it?"

The archbishop furrowed his brow.

"And if we cannot, will you flee?"

The holy knight immediately straightened.

"I, Ailan, holy knight, would sooner die than turn my back!"

Radiance burst from his entire body. The archbishop nodded in satisfaction.

"Prepare to intercept it."

"As you command!"

The demonic energy began to move. A darkness deeper than night was approaching. The closer it drew, the more its unfathomable presence crushed their bodies. Without holy power, they would all have fallen to their knees before that malice.

The holy knight shouted.

"Activate the holy magic array!"

The priests began reciting holy chants.

"Archers, forward!"

The sacred soldiers nocked consecrated arrows. The demonic energy was already entering range. The monster itself would be at the very center of that roiling mass of malice.

The holy knight drew his holy sword.

"Open fire!"

Pure white flames erupted from the ground. Consecrated arrows embroidered the night sky. Holy power blanketed the dark mantle of night, illuminating everything like a white night.

The demonic energy was slowly dispersing. That was all. The presence within the darkness remained undiminished.

"What a pitiful struggle."

A grotesque voice struck like lightning. Everyone shuddered at the dreadful sound, which seemed to tear at their souls.

Through the scattered demonic energy, the monster's form slowly emerged. An Archdemon silhouetted against the full moon. His ash-gray robes billowing, he looked down upon the ridge. Crimson malice spilled from his long, vertical slit eyes.

His unfathomable presence ravaged the ground below. Stripped of all will to fight, everyone stared blankly into the air.

Archdemon Beris twitched his nose in displeasure. Mere mortals dared look him in the eye. It was utterly intolerable.

"As profane a light as ever."

He swept a hand through the air. All the holy power on the ridge vanished at once like a mirage.

Without holy power, mortals could not resist an Apostle's malice. Everyone crumpled to the ground, their gazes driven into the dirt. Overwhelming terror was paralyzing their reason.

Apostle Beris spoke, his tiny mouth working.

"Surrender to your instincts, mortals. Feel no shame in pressing your heads to the ground and groveling before a Demon. Follow the supreme natural order and beg mercy of the almighty. I pledge this in the name of an Apostle: if you do not resist, I, Beris, Apostle of the End, shall grant you a painless death."

He meant to kill them regardless. Groveling would not save them. They might have thought to fight honorably if death awaited them anyway, yet not one person moved. His promise to kill them painlessly seemed the greatest of mercies.

Such was the compulsion of an Apostle's words. A single utterance from a great being profoundly affected mortals, paralyzing reason and crushing their values. Without exceptionally strong convictions, it was difficult to shake off that compulsion. Most of those present had already submitted to Beris's words.

Beris smiled in satisfaction. His tiny mouth split all the way to his ears in an instant.

"Behold, Marziel! Your lackeys bow their heads to me!"

The archbishop who had spent his life fighting for the Church's honor knelt before the Great Saint's sworn enemy. The holy knight who had sworn to destroy evil begged a Demon for mercy. The priests who had vowed to illuminate the world were submerged in darkness. The sacred soldiers who proclaimed themselves the Great Saint's servants licked a Demon's feet.

Every part of the spectacle delighted Beris. Broken convictions were the finest of delicacies.

"My first feast in two hundred years! My patience has been rewarded!"

Demonic energy surged as though exploding. Malice danced before their very noses, yet no one reacted.

Shaperia was no different. Mired in helplessness, she could only berate herself.

"I-is it really an Apostle? Why would an Apostle... No, it doesn't matter. I've already knelt. I'll never be able to rise again. I really was nothing."

Similar muttering came from all around. Everyone was mumbling as though they had lost their minds.

Beris burst into wild laughter.

"Indeed! You humans are petty, pitiful creatures! You cry out for illusions such as conviction, only to break in the end! Look at yourselves now! What a pathetic sight!"

No one could deny it. Some even began to agree.

"... He's right. I don't deserve to live."

"Kill me! Just kill me!"

Amid the echoes of self-reproach and despair, an earnest yet calm voice reached Shaperia's ears.

"Saint Marziel, lord of all holy chants, grant your servant leave to borrow a miracle."

Shaperia turned toward the voice. Bewilderment crossed her face. The archbishop was reciting a holy chant as he lay prostrate.

'How!'

Holy chants were incantations used to invoke holy magic. In other words, the archbishop intended to fight the Archdemon before them.

Shaperia was stunned. He could remain sane even in the face of such mighty malice.

'So he truly is an archbishop!'

Until recently, Shaperia had privately looked down on him. She had considered him a hypocrite who feigned kindness but cared for nothing but the Church's reputation.

That judgment changed.

'... It wasn't hypocrisy. He was simply acting according to his convictions.'

He would do anything to preserve the Church's honor. He would uphold its authority even by falsely accusing the weak, and would not bow to an enemy, however powerful. Because the Church knew neither error nor defeat.

Twisted though his convictions might be, there was no hypocrisy in them.

Still prostrate, Shaperia clenched a fistful of mud.

'I was the hypocrite.'

After acting so high and mighty, all she had done was kneel before a Demon. Her oath to destroy evil had broken so easily. She was so pathetic she could not bear it.

As she reproached herself, Beris's wild laughter abruptly ceased. Silence fell over the ridge.

Shaperia raised her head at the sudden quiet. Beris was approaching the archbishop, his expression hard.

"O Saint Who Destroys Evil, ascended to the heavens, with your supreme omnipotence, smite the evil before..."

The holy chant continued.

'Damn it!'

Beris had noticed. The archbishop was going to die.

Suddenly, her conversation with Yohan flashed through her mind.

["Correcting one's mistakes. That is one of the teachings the Great Saint always emphasized."]

Everyone made mistakes. But everyone also had opportunities to make amends. Spilled water could be poured anew. With the will to do so, one could replenish an empty cup or lost convictions alike.

This was her opportunity. Shaperia slowly lifted her knees from the ground.

'I'll do my part.'

She would buy time until the archbishop finished his holy chant.

Shaperia shouted at the top of her voice.

"Over here!"

Beris turned his gaze upon her. Malice that threatened to burn her soul swept over her entire body. Terrible pressure crushed down on her. She trembled violently, but did not fall.

Beris frowned.

"To permit such insolence from mere mortals. Is it because I was divided into ten? I must recover my scattered soul first."

Shaperia leveled her iron sword at him.

"You hideous fiend! I will not turn away from you! Even if I die, these knees will not bend!"

Holy power burst from her entire body. Her eyes blazed with pure white light.

Beris watched her silently, then split his mouth into a grin that reached his ears.

"Red hair. So you're Shaperia, bitch."

At the same moment, he swept a hand through the air. Shaperia's upper body was torn away in an instant. Her remaining lower half swayed, then crumpled to the ground.

"They bent. What pitiful resolve."